


Bastards

by orphan_account



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Brother Feels, Family, Fluff, Gold Sickness, M/M, Slut Shaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-06
Updated: 2013-11-22
Packaged: 2017-12-04 10:32:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 13,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/709771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of ficlet set in a slight AU, were families aren't all that they appear to be, but are still families in the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. families

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Alckalin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alckalin/gifts).



> And this, people, is what happen when you see a fanart of Dwalin with the same beard as Nori, and start talking about it with a fellow shipper.  
> I honestly can't think of a proper plot for this AU, but I have a few cute (or angsty) short stories prepared, so there we go. No chronological order, I'll just write themas I feel like it :D

Fili's last memory of his father happened shortly before his first one of Kili.

One day, Gili had taken him apart after a quarrel with Dis, and he had given him a gold pendant bearing the mark of his family, the one the blond dwarf would put on everything he made.

“You are Fili, son of Gili, son of Grijl,” he had said solemnly, “never let anyone take that fact away from you. You may be from the line of Durin, but half of your family was born here, and half of you belong in Ered Luin, never forget that.”

Fili had taken the golden gift, and he had promised, his small face trying hard to be as serious as his father's.

“I'll be going away for a while,” Gili added. “You must take care of your mother, she will need you. There is... there will soon be a new baby in the family, and he will need you too.”

“I'm gonna have a brother?”

“Yes. And you must protect him. Against the world, against his enemies and his friends. Against your mother and uncle, if it comes to it, you must protect him, because I doubt that anyone else will.”

“Why don't you protect him?”

“Because I have to go, and I don't know when I'll be back. But I will write often, Fili, I promise you that. You are my son, my darling little boy, and I will always love you. That's another thing you must never forget: I love you.”

He had left the following morning, while Fili was still sleeping, and he was never seen again in that part of the Blue Mountains. The prince never learned why his father had to leave that day, though he heard many rumours over the years, and had a few suspicions of his own.

But what he did know was that a week after Gili's departure, his mother introduced him to Kili, his dark haired baby brother, and it had been the start of a beautiful story that wouldn't end as long as they were alive.

It was only decades later that Fili would realize his mother had not been pregnant before Kili came into his life.

 

* * *

 

Bofur couldn't have been more than five when his mother died, and by then his father had been gone for a few years already. He had gone away in the East to find his fortune, they said, for there was there a town richer than any in Middle-Earth were you could trade with dwarves, men and elves in peace and friendship. Bofur had few memories of him, and barely understood that he had a father at all. He thought his father was the cousin who had taken them, his mother and him, because she was so sick and he was so young. And during her last months, his mother couldn't be there for him at all, too weak to even more, so their cousin's wife he had adopted as his new mother.

When he became an orphan, it made no difference in his life. And when his cousins had a child, a healthy baby boy, he called little Bombur his brother, and no one corrected him. This was his family.

It didn't take long for him to forget he had ever had other parents. All that remained of his mother afterwards was a soothing warmth in his dreams, and his father was even less than that, only the memory of a long gone smile.

* * *

 

Nori knew that Dori didn't like him, just like their dad didn't like him. He hoped their mum liked him, but sometimes he wasn't sure, because she could look at him like she didn't want him to be there, when she was tired or angry, and it hurt.

She was angry often, these days. That was because dad was angry too, and dad was angry because of Nori. His parents got into terrible quarrels because of him, and then dad would yell very bad words at mum. Whore. Slut. Bitch. Shame. Dishonour. Bastard.

That was him, Nori knew. Bastard. That was what he was. It meant he was the son of nobody, Dori had said, because even though he had two dads, neither of them wanted him. It meant that no one would ever want him.

And for years, he took it for granted. Things were meant to be that way. There was nothing to love about a bastard, and so he made sure that no one would ever love him. It made mum cry sometimes, but Nori claimed that she deserved to cry, that it was all her fault. He didn't really mean it. He loved her, and he would have killed anyone who blamed her for what she had done. But he couldn't afford to be nice. You weren't nice when you were a bastard.

But that was before Ori.

Ori was their mother's third son, and her second bastard, and Nori had looked at him, ready to hate him, the way you were meant to hate a bastard. Instead, he had fallen in love with a little dwarfling with bright eyes and a sweet smile.

And Nori had promised himself that _no one_ would ever make the little one feel unwanted.

 

* * *

 

Belladonna Took had been heavily pregnant when Bungo had proposed to her. The child wasn't his, of course. Never had much of a taste of women, that one. But Bella's lover had shamefully abandoned her because he hadn't felt ready for kids, and Bungo and her were such good friends, and he did love children so much. A match made in heaven, their families said, and a deal that would make everyone involved very happy.

And when little Bilbo was born, a few weeks after the rather rushed wedding, the three of them made a very happy little family.


	2. caught

It was the third time this month that Dwalin had arrested the lad, and he was growing rather suspicious of the whole thing. Nori was young, in his forties at most, but he was already the best thief in all of Ered Luin, and as slippery as an eel. An eel that carried blades and knew how to use them.

Dwalin had been the first one to ever catch him, they said, and it had made him proud, for the first time since the disaster at Azanulbizar.

But that had been the first time, weeks ago. After that Dwalin had caught him again and again, until it started feeling too easy. This last time in particular, he knew that Nori had had plenty of time and occasions to escape, but Dwalin had still arrested him. It was strange.

He had still thrown the lad in a cell, of course. And maybe this time, he'd manage to keep him there, for a change.

“Did you know me Ma used to work for your dad, in Erebor?” Nori asked as the cell door closed behind him. “She was your cook, back then.”

“You're Mjol's son?”

“You remember then?” the young dwarf merrily exclaimed. “'Cause she sure remembers you, and your dad. She liked him lots, said he was a good boss and paid well. He still around?”

“Dragon,” Dwalin grumbled as if it explained everything.

It did.

Nori nodded. “Dori's Da is dead too, but I say good riddance, he was an ass. We just got our Ma now, and she's plenty enough family.”

“Well, stealing isn't going to help her, not if you keep getting caught and she's got to pay to get you out of here. Aren't you old enough to try and get a decent job?”

“No one wants me. Hey, think you could get me in the guards? I'd be awesome at it, I'd be _legendary_! I know how thieves work, what with being one myself, I bet I could be useful!”

Dwalin laughed at that, until he saw the eager look on the lad's face. Damn. He was serious.

“We don't take your kind in the guards, laddie. Ask your mother to teach you her craft, or go to your family for help. Don't you have cousins of some sort that could help you?”

“All I got is me Ma and me brothers,” Nori spat. “There's no one who'll help a bastard, and me Ma, she's got two, and both of us with different Da, too. Me and the baby. His Da, he said he'd stay and marry her, but in the end once he was done fucking her, he left for that stupid battle in the mountains, and he got himself killed. There's no family for us now, not after that.”

“That's sad for you, lad.”

“Don't give a shit 'bout myself, mister Dwalin,” Nori proudly protested. “I'm no good, and I know it, 'cause I've never been no good at all. But the babe, he's never done a thing wrong in his life, and he doesn't deserve to become a piece of shit, like me. I've got to find money to pay him a Master some day. So you should take me in the guards. For the babe. You gotta help your brothers, 'cause family's what matter, isn't it?”

“It's nice and noble of you, laddie. But you should have tried joining us before you started stealing. Now there's nothing I can do for you, even if I wanted to. And I don't want to, because I'm not entirely convinced by your little story. People like you don't _care_ about family.”

The lad had looked hurt by his refusal, but that was nothing compared to the pure anger in his eyes when Dwalin accused him of lying about his family. A sentimental thief, then, and maybe he really was a bastard with a brother also in that shameful state. But that was not Dwalin's problem, and even with the many losses at Azanulbizar, he wasn't going to start enrolling the first dwarf who asked, and certainly not if the best argument they could come up with was “my mother can't keep her legs closed”.

It was not his place to feel sorry for Nori, and even if his mother had once worked for them, Dwalin owned him nothing.

He wasn't surprised when he came in the next morning, and found Nori's cell empty. The lad always escaped, one way or another. The insults against his father written in black ink all over the walls were something new, though. Dwalin decided that he'd ask an explanation next time he'd catch the thief.

But he never caught him again, proving once and for all that until then, Nori had _allowed_ the guard to arrest him.

Why he had done that though, Dwalin simply had no idea.


	3. Family is what matter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bofur rather liked his cousin Bifur, though he did not know him very well.

Bofur liked his cousin Bifur, though he didn't know him very well.

Bifur made these very pretty toys that he sold in faraway places, and his little business was very successful, even in Erebor where they had plenty of good artisans of their own. When he came home to rest and prepare a new stock, he always brought many gifts for his young cousins. Sometimes it felt as if nothing could bring Bifur greater joy than to see the little ones happy.

As he grew older, Bofur noticed that his gifts were always of better quality, that his tunics were of silk instead of cotton, that his knives were true blades of Erebor rather than the cheap stuff you got in every market, but it didn't feel important. The tunics fitter Bombur better, and he gave the knives to his father and brother, having little taste for blades.

The present were nice, really, but they weren't his favourite thing anyway. What he really loved was listening to Bifur's stories, and the smile on his cousin's face when Bofur would tell a few stories of his own. It made him feel like his little adventures with the children of the valley were just as grand as dangerous business trips across Middle-Earth.

“Would you like to come with me?” Bifur once asked.

“Can Bombur come too?”

“He's still a bit young, Bo. No, it would be... it would be just you and me... and the rest of the company of course. We'd get to know each other, wouldn't you like that?”

Bofur had thought about it for a moment.

“I think I'd rather wait until Bom is old enough, it'd be more fun with him. But we'll have to bring loads of food for him and sweets, 'cause he don't like most other things. And we'll have to go slow, 'cause he gets tired easy.”

Bifur had looked disappointed, but he had not insisted. He had left a few days later, and they hadn't seen him for three years.

It was soon after that Bofur reached the age were he could start working in the mines. It wasn't the best job ever, but he liked it, and it allowed him to earn a little money. He used it to help his parents, and what he didn't spend for the family, he saved for Bombur. His little brother was a rather good cook for a dwarf, and Bofur had a plan. They needed to send Bombur away to a proper master, so that he would learn how to do proper cooking, and work with something he really loved. Most masters requested a payment before they took an apprentice, and it would have to be a human master in this case, which meant they would make them pay a lot, but it would be worth it if it made Bombur happy.

He explained his plan to their parents one fair summer. It took a while to convince them, but in the end they agreed to try, once Bombur would be old enough, in a year or two.

Bifur came back that summer, richer than they had ever seen him. Things had worked well for him, and he was thinking of settling in Erebor. But before he could decide on that, he explained that he needed to talk to his cousins, without the children. Bofur was rather unnerved by the way he looked at him as he said that, but he still obeyed, taking Bombur with him.

And of course he'd immediately sent his little brother to spy on the adults. It was easy enough to do, they had a secret passage to the cave (a hole that Bofur had meant to repair for a while, actually, but never had, because it was so _practical_ ) and once you were down there, you could hear everything that was happening in the main room of the house. Bofur himself was too big to get in there that way, but Bombur still managed quite well, for the time being.

Half an hour later, Bombur was running to him, tears all over his round little face. Bofur had tried to pull the boy to him, but his little brother had resisted. That only was worrying. Bofur never refused a hug.

“You're going away!” the little one cried. “Bifur, he's taking you, you're going to Erebor with him, he's taking you!”

“No way he's taking me. Ma and Da won't let him do that, and I don't want to!”

“B-but that's the trouble! He's... he's... Bo, I heard them! They were talking and I heard them!”

“Heard wha...”

“Bifur's your Da!” Bombur sobbed, falling into his brother's arms. “He's your Da! I heard them, Bo, I heard them, it's Ma and Da who said it! You're not my brother, you're my cousin, and he's going to take you away and I'll be alone!”

Bofur held his little brother tightly against him.

“He's not taking me nowhere,” he hissed between clenched teeth. “And he's _not_ my Da. _Da_ is my Da, and Ma is my Ma, and you are my brother. You're my family, and I'm staying with you, 'cause that's where I'm s'pposed to be. You're my family. He's not.”

“But I heard...”

“Don't care what you heard, it's not true. You're my brother. You're my family. Nothing else matters.”

“You're staying, then?”

“Course I'm staying. I'm always staying with you, Bom.”

By the time the adults called them back, Bombur had calmed down, and Bofur had had time to steel his nerves. Da and Ma were his parents, he repeated himself. They were his family. That had taken care of him for as far as he could remember. They had rights over him that Bifur did not have, could not have, because he had never been there. Not when Bofur had broken his arm after climbing a tree, not all the times he had been sick, not when he had been so in love with that girl that he had cried for days when she had rejected him.

Bifur had never been there when it mattered.

His parents had.

Keeping that in mind, it had been easy to refuse his offer to join him on his next trip to Erebor.

“I think there are some things you need to know,” Bifur had started, but Bofur hadn't let him finish.

“I know all I need to know, cousin. It doesn't change anything. I'm staying here. With my _family_. Because family is what matters, when you've _got_ one.”

The hurt look on his cousin face almost made him change his mind. But at that moment, Bombur took his hand, and the little one was trembling so much. Bofur could never abandon him.

“I understand,” Bifur had sighed. “I will go alone, then, and this is goodbye. I wish you all the luck in the world, my boy. I really do.”

He had left that very evening, alone.

They didn't see him in years after that. Bofur decided he did not care. He had his family. He had his job. Two years later, they were able to find a master for Bombur, one that was so impressed by his skills and enthusiasm that he didn't ask much money to take him as a student. Bombur was happy. Ma and Da were happy. And that was enough to make Bofur happy.

He did not regret staying.

Family was what mattered, and Bifur wasn't family, not really.


	4. Don't get near Dwalin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not too happy with the ending of that one. I find it a tiny bit ~melodramatic~ and Nori is fairly OoC but hey, enjoy anyway!:D

“Don't get near Dwalin.”

For as long as he could remember, Ori had heard these words from Nori.

“Don't get near Dwalin.”

It was the only time when his brothers always agreed. Dwalin was in charge of the security in their valley, as respectable a dwarf as there ever was. But Nori hated him, for obvious reason, and Dori didn't like him much either.

“Don't get near Dwalin.”

That became less easy once Balin took him as his apprentice, of course. But Dwalin was rarely ever there, and when he was he barely looked at Ori, and when he did, he was the first to admit he knew nothing about being a scribe, though he always found something nice to say about his work.

“Don't get near Dwalin.”

But it was Balin they should have been worried about, Ori thought, because it was the old dwarf who had recruited him to join a quest to reclaim Erebor. Dwalin would be there too, of course, or Ori would not have agreed. It wouldn't have been safe without him.

Not safe enough for his brothers' tastes, though, so they decided to come along to protect him. The look that Dwalin and Nori had exchanged then had promised that their travel would be an _interesting_ one.

“Dont get near Dwalin.”

And why not, after all? Ori rather liked the older warrior, who had always been nice to him. And as they feasted in the Shire, in the house of a small hobbit that was to join their company, Dwalin was even _friendly_. Ori did not have many friends. He had an old, terrible crush on prince Kili, and a great admiration for prince Fili, but he'd never really had a proper friend before.

Dwalin was offering him that friendship.

He saw no reason to refuse it.

“Don't get near Dwalin.”

Nori and Dori were terribly disapproving of how much time he spent with Dwalin, and they kept looking for excuses to prevent Ori from being with his friend. Their explanations were always the same.

Dori claimed that Dwalin was a noble, and that nobles didn't become _friend_ with people like them. Something in his tone made it clear what nobles usually used people like them for, but Ori pretended he didn't get it, and just smiled innocently. He knew Dori would never dare to be more explicit than that.

Nori was convinced that Dwalin wasn't trustworthy. Considering their respective jobs, Ori understood perfectly well that, for them, trust would never be an option. But sometimes, the young dwarf had the feeling that the problem wasn't just a professional one, that Nori had a personal grudge against the warrior. And that was strange, of course, because Nori didn't hold grudges. He killed people or decided they were not worth his time, but he didn't hold grudges.

One night, Ori asked Dwalin if he knew why Nori hated him so much, but the older dwarf was just as baffled as him.

“I think he asked me to take him into the guards once. Fairly sure it was him. I refused. That the only thing I ever did to him. Never managed to catch him after that. Hurts to admit it, but your brother is good at what he does.”

Ori chuckled. “Nor? In the guards? But why would he do that, he loves being... an independent purchaser of rare goods.”

“That's what he calls it, then?”

The young scribe shook his head, smiling. “No, that's what Dori says when people ask him 'bout Nor. He...”

“Ori, come here!” Dori called him then, and the young dwarf sighed while Dwalin rolled his eyes. Better not to resist, they both knew it.

“Don't get near Dwalin,” Dori said when Ori came to sit by him.

* * *

 

Then one morning, Nori snapped. They were at Rivendell, enjoying what comfort the elves could give them (not much, in Ori's opinion, because he didn't hate greens as much as he claimed in front of Dori, but he still liked meat and chips far better) and Ori had spent a great amount of time with Dwalin and the two young princes. And while Ori really liked Dwalin and Fili, it was really Kili's company that he had sought at that moment. He had just managed to find the courage to ask to talk to him alone when Nori had appeared out of nowhere, looking furious, and had turned to Dwalin.

“You will leave my brother alone, son of Fundin,” he growled menacingly. “I don't know what you're trying do here, but you will leave Ori out of it.”

“I'm not doing anything!” Dwalin protested. “Why are you and Dori so convinced that I...”

“We've dealt with people like you before, that's why. _Nobles_. People like you take and take until there's nothing left. I won't let you do that to my brother, not as long as I live. You have been _warned_.”

The warrior frowned. “I have no such intentions toward Ori, thief. I care for him, but I would no more touch him that I would touch _Balin_. The lad is like a brother to me.”

Ori had smiled and blushed at that, pleased that his friend would hold him in such high consideration after so short a time.

Nori, on the other hand, looked like he had just been punched in the guts.

“He's not brother of yours,” he said coldly, grabbing Ori's wrist. “And he will never be. Stay away from him, if you know what's good for you. He's _my_ brother, not yours.”

He had dragged Ori away then, and had pushed him in an empty room.

“I've told you not to get near Dwalin,” Nori said. “Why don't you ever listen?”

“Oh, like _you've_ got any right to tell me that! And what was that about, really? Dwalin said the truth, we're just friends. I know you're afraid I'll end up like mum, but...”

“This will stop,” Nori cut him. “You've got the entire company to make friends with, if that's what you want, but I don't want you to speak to Dwalin again. This must _stop_.”

“Oh, you're acting just like _Dori_! I don't know why you too hate Dwalin so much, but I like him, and he's nice, and I'm honoured if he thinks of me as a brother. Bet he'd be a better one than you, too, 'cause he wouldn't always be gone and leaving me with Dori who thinks I'm still in my nappies! At least _Dwalin_ treats me as a proper adult, not like you two! So say what you want 'bout him, I don't care. He's my friend, and I like him, whether _you_ do or not.”

Before his brother could stop him, the young dwarf had stormed out from the room without another look at Nori, and he had slammed the door behind him, acting every bit like the furious child that he felt.

And as he starred at the closed door where his favourite brother had just disappeared, Nori wondered where he had gone wrong with Ori to make him like _Dwalin_ better than his family.


	5. Dwelf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kili is an odd looking dwarf, and Fili won't tolerate anyone insulting his brother

Fili knew that his brother wasn't entirely his brother, and he didn't care. There were things more important than blood.

So he didn't care that everyone looked at Kili as if he were a freak of some sort, with his beard that took years to come out, and then never grew fully, with his small nose that was barely a thin line in his face, with those weird ears of his that he had to keep hidden under his hair at all time, and the way he was always taller than a dwarfling his age ought to be.

Fili didn't care because blood or not, Kili was his family, his brother, his other half. Even when they'd be older and taking lovers, Kili would still be his other half.

Part of him knew he could and should hate the younger dwarf. His father had gone away because of Kili, and he had preferred to die in a faraway battle rather than to be present for his family, all because of a little dwarfling with dark hair and strange ears. Everyone expected him to be jealous, and the first few years their mother had never left them alone together, just in case.

But he wasn't jealous. He loved his little brother. And he had promised to protect him, anyway. That had been the last thing his father had asked of him, to always keep Kili safe from everyone. He hadn't understood why at the time. He did now.

The first time someone used the word, Fili was fifteen and Kili was ten. They hadn't understood at first, but that night Fili had asked their mother what it meant. She slapped him, and forbid him to ever use the word again.

“But I heard someone...”

“Be a better dwarf than them, and never say that word again. It's a bad word, Fili. If I hear it again from you, I'll punish you, is that clear?”

“Yes, mom. But what does it _mean_?”

“Nothing you need to know. If you hear it again, come find me, and I'll take care of it.”

Fili did hear the word again. Always about Kili. From people who would then call his mother an elf-fucker.

 _That one_ he understood.

He did not like it.

When he was thirty, he broke the nose of an older dwarf for it. Because if there was an elf-fucker in his family, then it wasn't his _mother_. She'd never been pregnant of Kili, he remembered it clearly, and there had been so many arguments at home before his brother arrived, between his mother and father, and sometimes with Thorin too. Fili knew his mother had never done a thing wrong in her life. He was less sure of his father, and he had a few suspicions about his uncle too.

But he could not explain that.

Luckily, the dwarf he had attacked never demanded reparations. Probably didn't want to have to explain he had insulted the royal family. And true or not, it had _still_ been an insult.

He heard the word less after that, but people still looked at Kili the wrong way. Everyone said that a bow was no proper weapon for a dwarf, and wasn't that the most ridiculous thing to say. Thorin had been a great archer once, everyone knew it, and if _he_ weren't a proper dwarf, then who would ever be? But just to prove them all wrong, Fili encouraged his brother to train with him. Kili was just as good with a sword as he was with a bow, but people never seemed to notice it.

“Why do you care so much about what people say of me?” Kili asked him one day, after Fili had gotten into yet another fight. “ _I_ don't care, it's all lies and we all know it.”

“I care because you're a prince of Erebor, and people should respect that, if nothing else.”

“It's not like we even have a Erebor to be princes of,” the younger one protested, rolling his eyes. "And I don't mind, what people say about me, really. It's true that I don't look like a proper dwarf, and the more you fight them, the more they'll think there's a _reason_ to fight. So let them talk."

Fili glared at his brother.

"I see I'm the only one in the entire family to mind that our honour is put in question. It's bad enough that mother refuses to defend you..."

"And uncle Thorin calls me a dwelf too, when he thinks I'm being very stupid," Kili laughed, clearly amused by his brother's anger. "Look, I'm an ugly fellow, that's a fact, you can't ask people to pretend I'm all nice and handsome like you! So relax, and let them talk."

"But..."

"Please. I don't like it when you fight about _me_ , and for something so silly, too. Can you _please_ stop that? Please?"

"Oh, and you're making the _face_ , and... fine, I'll try to... not do it. Too much. But if anyone uses that word again about you, I swear I'll break their face. Even if it's uncle, is that clear?"

 _Especially_ their uncle, Fili thought darkly.

He had no certainties on Kili's lineage, but he had _strong suspicions_ , and if they were right, then Thorin was the last person on earth to have the right to ridicule Kili and call him a _dwelf_.

"You're so weird sometimes," Kili laughed. "I really don't get why you're so upset by things like that. Come on, you look like uncle when you're angry, and that's just awful! You'd better show me again that move, instead of sulking like that. I want to learn how you did that thing with the sword, it was _awesome_."

"'Course it was awesome," Fili replied, forcing a smile. " _I_ was the one doing it. But fine, let's try this again."


	6. Gili son of Grilj

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ori's father was a good dwarf, even if he'd never married his mother.  
> Even if he kept secrets from her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a mild writing block so this...isn't very good and I apologize.

Ori had never known his father, but he missed him terribly.

From what his mother and brothers had told him about him, he had been a very nice dwarf of noble blood. Honest, too. He had told his mother right from the beginning that he was already married, though his wife and him had chosen to separate because he could no longer get along with his in-laws. Still, he had loved Ori's mother very much, even Nori admitted it, and Nori wasn't the sort to even admit that love existed.

They lived as if they were married, and Gili had done his bed to provide for Seri, and for her sons, even though Nori had made things difficult for him. Gili had been a very good smith, who had taken work in human towns and made a fair amount of money. Dori once admitted that the period when Gili had lived with them had been the best time in his life since before Nori's birth.

Gili had been a good dwarf.

And according to Dori and Seri, he had cried in joy when she had told him that she was with child.

In truth, she had been afraid to tell him, because he had mentioned once or twice that he already had a son with his wife, and a part of Seri had feared he had just been running away from that. Some dwarf did. Not Gili. He'd taken extra hours at the forge, trying to make as much money as he could so that his child would never lack anything.

“He always insisted your fate would be your own,” Seri told Ori once. “We never really knew who he was, but I've always felt he must have been noble, or his wife was at least, and he didn't like that. He seemed to pity people who had their whole life decided for them, and he kept repeating that you'd be the only one to decide what you'd be. Said once that you turning like Nori would still be better than forcing you into something you might not want.”

She'd never asked questions before, but during her pregnancy, she had tried to learn more about him. He'd never said a thing. Claimed that it didn't matter.

But it did matter in the end, when one day an old dwarf came to find him and said his presence was requested in the King's army. Thror wanted to reclaim Khazad Dum, and he had asked for Gili.

And Gili, who had been as peaceful as a dwarf could be, had agreed to follow him.

“I'll be back soon,” he had promised Seri. “As soon as we win the war, I'll be back, and we'll raise our son together. They took my first-born from me, but this one I'll protect and help, this one I'll give everything he deserve.”

“You'll make a good father, Gili.”

“I'd better. I think Nori will stab me in the back if I don't.”

He'd left soon after, but not before making a small pendant for his yet unborn child, a pendant bearing the crest of his family. “The kid might not have married parents, but he's not a bastard, not with this to prove he's mine. And as soon as he's born, I'll claim him as my son.”

But the battle hadn't gone the way they'd all expected.

Many good dwarves had fallen at Azanulbizar. Even one of the princes, they said, and the princess's husband.

And Gili, too.

He'd been of those who never came back, and if he wasn't mourned by their entire people the way the royals were, Seri and Dori cried for him, and even Nori seemed to share their sorrow.

Ori had been born a bastard in the end.

But his family made sure he knew he'd had a father, and what a wonderful dwarf he'd been.

And no matter how tight money would get sometimes, not one of them ever thought of selling away the pendant that Gili had made for him.

When he left for the quest to Erebor, it came with him. If his father had been brave enough to risk his life for the line of Durin, then so would he, and the pendant would give him strength in moments of doubts, the way it always had.

The only time he removed it was at Beorn's, when he took Kili to bed for the first time.

He didn't need memories of his father then. He was too busy creating new ones of the prince he'd loved for so long.

It was only after, when they were putting their clothes back on, that Kili noticed the necklace, and for some reason it made him laugh.

“It's funny, you know,” the young prince explained, taking the pendant between his fingers. “My brother has the exact same one. I think it was a present from our dad, before he left? I wasn't born yet, so I didn't get one, but Fili did, and it's pretty much the most precious thing he owns, I think.”

Ori froze.

“He died at Azanulbizar, our dad,” Kili continued, playing with the necklace's chain. “But I think he left a few years before, because uncle Thorin and him had this huge argument about Fili and me. mother never really speaks of it. She loved him a lot.”

Ori felt his heart clench. This could not be happening.

“Do... what was your father's name, Kee?” he asked, his voice shaking.

“What? Ori, are you okay? You've gone all pale! Did... did I hurt you, or...”

“Tell me your father's name!” the young scribe ordered, grabbing the prince's wrist and stealing back his necklace. “You've got to tell me, you've got to tell me _now_!”

Kili stared at him blankly, too surprised to answer.

“ _His name! I want his name! Now!_ ”

“I... My father was Gili, son of Grilj, b-but why...”

Ori let go of the prince's wrist as if it had burned him. It had, in a way.

This could not be happening.

He'd been so _happy_.

He should have known it wouldn't last.

There was only one thing left to do.

“Kee, there's something you've got to know...”

He'd been so happy.

He'd never be again.


	7. unwanted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To the end of his days, Thorin would regret taking that job for a group of elves

Thorin loved Kili, more than anything, but the boy was the greatest shame of his existence.

Kili had been a mistake.

Kili should never have been born.

Thorin loved him, but there wasn't a day when he didn't regret having sired him.

It all started when the king was forced to accept a job for some elves, who lived near the sea. They had asked for the very best smith of all the exiles... and out of pride, Thorin had offered himself. Out of pride, and because after the way the elves of Mirkwood had let them down, no one had wanted to work for the tall ones again. But as Balin and Dis and Gili had pointed out to him, they needed to establish business now that they had found a haven in Ered Luin, and working for the elves was the best way to do that.

Thorin had gone, and it had been the worse decision of his life.

The job was easy. Tedious, but easy. The elves treated better than expected. One of them, in particular, was very interested in his work. She kept coming to see him, asking questions and listening to the answers... and Thorin answered easily enough. He had no idea if she was pretty by her kind's standards, but she had a nice enough smile.

It had been a long time since anyone had smiled at him like that. He would have liked it better if it hadn't been the smile of an elf, but there was no harm in appreciating it.

It should never have been more than smiles.

It would never have been more than smiles, if one night the elf hadn't come to the little room given to Thorin with a flask of liquor.

It had been only one night, not long before Thorin left.

One night had been enough.

 

Once he'd gone back to the Blue Mountains, Thorin had forgotten about that night, pretending it had never happened at all. Until a letter had come in one day, announcing that he had a son, and that this son would be sent to him soon.

“How could you?” Dis shouted at him when he told her. “All your great speeches about honour, about acting as befit a member of the royal family... You barely let Fili laugh in your presence because it isn't proper behaviour for a prince, but you can share the bed of an elf and get her with child?”

“I certainly didn't mean to!” Thorin protested. “And I intend to write to her. She was the one who came to me, she should be the one to take care of that... that half breed.”

Dis slapped him.

“He is your child, whether you want him or not. We have lost too many children to the dragon to abandon one, just because his mother was a whore and his father an idiot. We are going to raise it.”

“Who will raise him, exactly?” Gili asked, and they both jumped in surprise. They'd forgotten he was there. He was easy to forget, for Thorin... and he rarely dared to get involved in the fights of the royal siblings usually. But there was a strange hardness on Gili's face that day, one that neither Thorin or Dis had ever seen on him.

“You will,” Thorin decided. “Dis and you. You two are married after all, so children are a logical outcome, and...”

“No.”

Thorin glared at his brother-in-law.

“Excuse me?”

“I said no,” Gili repeated. “It's hard enough that I have to let you scold my son every hour of the day, just because you have decided that he was your heir. I will not on top of that raise your bastard for you. Keep him yourself, teach him how to be a prince... and leave my son alone.”

“A bastard on the throne?” Dis gasped. “Surely, you must be joking! And not even a full dwarf at that! No, Fili would still be the heir...”

“Indeed,” Thorin confirmed. “The creature cannot ever come near the throne. Even if something happened to Fili, that thing could never be king!”

Gili looked at both of them, disgust clear on his face.

“It's the child or me,” he announced. “Your bastard will not be my son, Thorin. If you keep it as your own, I will be more than willing to help you with him. If he is my nephew, I will fight with all I have to protect him, and I can tell you that no one will dare to mock him for his origins in front of me. But you try to make it my son, I will leave.”

Dis protested, as did Thorin. They pleaded and argued and shouted, but Gili wouldn’t hear anything. That was the trouble with letting a commoner of another clan marry a princess: he just didn’t understand that there were more important things that his pride. It was a terrible fight that they had, one that nobody really one.

Dis would raise the child.

Alone

Well, not entirely alone, because Thorin would do his best to help of course, and they knew they could count on Balin and Dwalin at least, if it came to it…

But on the very day they had received the letter, Gili packed his things and went away.  Dis cried that night, and many of the following ones. Things were never again the same between Thorin and her, and he knew it was his fault, because of one moment of carelessness… but then again, she had been the one to say they had to keep the child around, Thorin told himself whenever he felt too guilty. None of it would have happened if they had just gotten rid of that abomination.

 

Kili was given to them a few weeks later.

He didn’t look so different from a dwarfling, Thorin thought as he inspected the child. If not for his ears, no one would have suspected anything… and soon enough, his hair should be long enough to hide even that.

As if sensing that he would have to make some serious efforts to be even just tolerated, the infant smiled at the dwarf holding him, and there was such sincere joy on his little face that against his will, Thorin found himself smiling back.

That thing would never make a good son, but with some luck, it might make a decent nephew.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't know what to write so Alckalin said to update this and so I did.  
> Thorin is a terrible huge dick, and I am considering the option of not letting him survive the BoFA.


	8. my brother's brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dori is so done with all of this.  
> It's time he took things in his own hands.

It was all such a mess, really, and if there was anything Dori couldn’t stand, it was mess.

He was at fault for it, of course. He had _allowed_ things to get this bad.

The situation, at present, was the following: Ori and Nori had barely exchanged two words since Rivendell. Dori had hoped that almost dying in the mountains would have brought some senses back into his brothers’ thick skulls… in vain. Ori had been shaken by his near death experience, yes, but he had seeked comfort from Kili (which was _acceptable_ , since the boys were sweet on each other) and from Dwalin. Nori, of course, had taken that as an insult, and he had made a show of how much he didn’t care what their younger brother did.

Which was silly, because if there was one thing Dori was sure of, it was that Nori loved Ori. It was after seeing how his brother doted on the baby that he’d learned to see Nori as more than the bastard who had ruined his parents’ marriage, more than the child of his mother and the noble dwarf for whom she’d worked. Dori had always seen Nori as a waste of space, and when things had been hard, after the dragon, he’d seen it as a waste of money too. But it had been difficult to continue hating him when Nori was trying so hard to take care of the baby, when he took every work he could find, honest or not, just to make sure that Ori wouldn’t lack in anything, that he’d have food and clothes…

Nori loved Ori, but not as much as he hated Dwalin, and Dori couldn’t blame him for it.

He knew a lot about hating a half-brother, after all.

“Worse thing is, he doesn’t even _know_ we’re kin,” Nori had told him once. “He wasn’t bloody old enough to know, and his father kept him out of it. I’m the only one who knows… and Balin, maybe. Sometimes, he looks at me and I just know that he knows, but he won’t say anything. Not until I say something first… and I can’t, ‘cause I promised Fundin.”

Dori had nodded silently, and he’d patted his brother on the back.

He knew about that promise to Fundin, of course.

One day, not long before the dragon came, Nori had escaped from their house to go meet the dwarf who had sired him. When he had come back, many hours later, all he had said was that he’d promised to never repeat what had happened between him and his father… but the mere fact that he’d called Fundin his father had been telling enough. Later, many years later, Nori had confessed that the noble dwarf had admitted to being his father, but on the condition that he would never talk about it to anyone…

Dori never knew if he should have laughed or cried that it was for such a thing that Nori had decided to keep his word.

These days, it mostly made him angry.

 

But then, as if it hadn’t been bad enough that Nori and Ori wouldn’t talk, there had been a fight of some sort between the boy and prince Kili.

Dori just couldn’t understand what had happened. The children had been so sweet, trying so hard to keep their little romance a secret, sneaking away whenever they could to hold hands and steal a few kisses… but never more than that, and they never went very far, because they were in love but they weren’t stupid. They knew the quest was a dangerous one, and so they never took any risks, grateful for whatever little demonstrations of affection they could get away with. The whole company knew, of course, and the general opinion was that they were very touching, and would have to get married once Erebor would be theirs again. The very first wedding the mountain would have seen in more than a century…

The boys weren’t engaged, not formally, but it was just a detail. So when one afternoon, Dori saw them sneaking away together to the stables, with what looked suspiciously like a bottle of oil in Ori’s kitchen… he pretended not to notice. There was still a long way to go, their trip was a dangerous one… he couldn’t deny the children something that would make them happy.

It hadn’t worked quite the way he’d expected.

When Kili had come back to the house, he was alone, and looked as if he had cried. He denied it in front of his uncle of course, claiming he was just have a reaction to the flowers… and Thorin, fool that he was, believed him and went back to his conversation with Bofur and Bilbo.

Dori, who had a lot more experience in dealing with lying youngsters, wasn’t convinced at all. Especially when he saw the young prince grab his brother’s wrist and drag him away. When at last Ori came back inside, he too looked as if he had cried.

Dori, of course, did his duty as a brother and tried to ask what had happened… and of course, Ori lied and talked about the flowers. It wasn’t exactly a surprise. And normally, Dori would have left it at that, certain that whatever was happening, Ori would talk about it to Nori, who in turn could be nagged into telling at least parts of the truth to Dori.

Not this time.

This time, instead, Ori went to Dwalin, and whatever had happened with the prince, it was clear that it was something too terrible to be shared even with a friend.

 

And that was the situation at the moment. They were trapped in the middle of a cursed forest, with not enough food and water to last them the rest of the trip. Nori and Ori weren’t talking, nor even looking at each other. Kili and Ori weren’t talking either, but they did a great amount of looking, and they seemed more desperately in love than ever. Ori spent all of his time by Dwalin’s side, which made Nori furious, and more importantly it _hurt_ him.

Dori decided that he’d had enough. There were some things he couldn’t change about this dreadful situation, but others he could.

When they stopped for the night, he cleared his throat, and declared that he had an announcement to make.

“It’s about Nori,” he explained to twelve surprised dwarves and a hobbit. “Now, some of you might have noticed that my brother and me don’t share the same looks, not quite. There is a simple reason to that: my brother isn’t entirely my brother.”

Nori started, and threw him a panicked look.

“Dori, don’t!”

Dori smiled kindly, and then proceeded to ignore him entirely.

“My mother, when we still lived in Erebor, had an affair with her employer.” Dwalin looked outraged by the accusation, but Balin merely frowned. “That affair lasted for a few years, and my mother became pregnant as a result. The child that was born out of it is Nori… son of Fundin.”

There were a few horrified cries, from Gloin and Dwalin mostly, the warrior shouting at Dori to take back his insults, talking of duel to the death, for the honour of his late father. But Dori barely looked at him, all of his attention on Ori, who was pale as a sheet. He was a clever boy of course, which meant he quickly understood that this sudden declaration had been for his sake, to show him what he’d done exactly, whenever he had preferred Dwalin to his own brother.

It wasn’t that the boy couldn’t be friend with Dwalin, Dori told himself. It was just that he had to understand what it did to Nori.

Of course now it meant that he’d have to fight against Dwalin, who was _almost_ as strong as Dori was, but that was a small price to pay to reconcile his brothers.

Dori hadn’t expected Balin to come between him and Dwalin, grabbing the huge dwarf’s wrists to force him to calm down.

“There’s no attack on our honour, brother,” Balin announced. “It’s all true.”

“It can’t be!” Dwalin roared. “Our father was an honourable dwarf, he’d never have…”

“An honourable dwarf, trapped in an arranged marriage,” Balin retorted calmly. “Mother knew of it. She had lovers of her own, after all. When the dragon arrived, they were talking of adopting Nori, or at least to pay for his education.”

_That_ , Dori hadn’t known, and judging by the look on his face, neither had Nori.

“Father was waiting to be sure it could be done even without the consent of your mother’s husband,” Balin informed them. “He had been very impressed by Nori when he met him, said he’d never seen so bright a lad… but I was to keep it secret from everyone until he knew for certain that it could be done. He didn’t want to get Nori’s hopes up, nor to worry Dwalin for nothing, should things not work out. After Smaug came, I… never saw any reason to talk about this.”

That new revelation was met by a heavy silence. Nori was shaking, looking as if he were fighting tears… and maybe he was. After a lifetime of thinking himself unwanted (something for which Dori still felt guilty), to hear that his father had _wanted_ him, had tried to find ways to take care of him…

Dwalin looked just as shocked of course, but Dori didn’t feel very sorry for _him_. In fact, he rather felt satisfied when he saw Ori slip away from the warrior to go hug Nori instead. He quickly joined them, not giving a damn about the aftermath of the little scandal he had provoked.

Brothers had to stick together, he thought. And they were brothers, the three of them. No matter who else shared their blood, _they_ were brothers, and anyone else didn’t matter, not _really_.


	9. fatherhood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bifur wasn’t his father, he’d never be.

Bifur wasn’t his father, he’d never be.

No matter what the older dwarf seemed to think, Bofur had only two parents, who were also Bombur’s parents, and anyone outside of these three people was kin, not family.

Ever since Bifur had tried to take him away on his travels, Bofur just avoided him. It was easier like that.

 

Bifur wasn’t his father, he’d never be.

But when he heard that his _cousin_ had been wounded in an orc attack, Bofur didn’t hesitate: he went to fetch him, and brought him home. The axe in his skull was a terrible sight, and for many weeks, they all thought he would die. All they could do was try to make his last days as nice as possible, in these circumstances.

But Bifur didn’t die, and little by little, things improved for him.

Somehow, Bofur felt proud that he’d been the first one to make Bifur smile again. He’d been trying to juggle, to make some of the neighborhoud children laugh… and Bifur had smiled at him.

After that, Bofur started juggling with anything he could find, and Bifur smiled every time he did.

 

Bifur wasn’t his father, he’d never be.

But when he offered to teach Bofur how to make beautiful wood toys, the younger dwarf quickly agreed.

He told himself it was because anything that helped Bifur get better was a good thing, and that if Bifur could make toys again, they could sell them. They would need the money. Bombur had gotten married, and his wife was pregnant already.

He found many excuses to let Bifur teach him.

It took him a while to admit that he’d just wanted to learn.

 

Bifur wasn’t his father, he’d never be.

So Bofur laughed when the older dwarf tried to warn it against his little romance with Bilbo and Thorin.

“Didn’t take you to be so old fashioned! It’s quite fine, it’s not like I can get either of them with child. Trust me. I checked. Several times.”

Bifur rolled his eyes and grunted.

/The hobbit isn’t so bad,/ he signed. /But the king… I don’t trust him. He has that look sometimes. A bad look. He gets it when he looks at his son. He has it when he looks at the hobbit. He has it when he looks at you. I don’t like it./

Bofur just laughed. “It’s fine really… and what do you mean anyway, his son? Thorin doesn’t have a son! He’s got _nephews_.”

There was nothing mean in Bofur’s voice as he corrected his cousin. Bifur got a little confused about some things sometimes… but with an axe in the brain, who wouldn’t? So Bofur patiently corrected him each time, and if anyone was around, he glared at them to make it clear that laughing wasn’t an option.

/I know what I’m saying,/ Bifur protested. /The tall boy. The boy with dark hair. That’s his son. It’s in the way the king looks at him. I know the look of a father who has to give his son another name./

Bofur frowned, trying to think of something to say… in vain.

“That’s his nephew,” he just insisted. “Everyone knows it. You’re just seeing things that don’t exist.”

/Maybe. Maybe not. Still, be careful. I do not like the way the king looks at you./

Bofur shrugged, and turned away.

Sometimes, Bifur really was a little crazy.

 

Bifur wasn’t his father, he’d never be.

But when after the dragon’s death, Thorin became distant and cruel, Bofur was strangely relieved to know that no matter what happened, he could count on him.

It was only small things, such as warning him and Bilbo when Thorin was looking for them, so that they might escape… or making a show of cleaning his spear when he thought the king was talking too harshly.

 

Bifur wasn’t his father, he’d never be.

But he was still _there_ , and Bofur was grateful for it.


	10. Thieves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of them has his Arkenstone, Thorin knows it.  
> And if he has to kill them one by one to get it back, then so be it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, for those of you who didn't know yet: I love writing gold sickness

The gold slipped through his fingers liked water. Finally, _finally_ it was his again. His kingdom, his treasure, his Arkenstone.

Well, he actually still needed to find the stone. But soon. Soon it would be his. The Heart of the Mountain. His grandfather had almost died trying to save it from the dragon. The most beautiful thing the world had ever known. The elves' silmarils couldn't have compared with it. Nothing could compare with it. It was the Arkenstone. It was his treasure. It was the only thing that still mattered.

Everyone was looking for it. Thorin had made sure of it. They were looking for it, and as soon as it would be found, they would bring it to him. And it would be his again.

The gold in his hands started looking dull. He didn't want that meaningless metal. He wanted the stone. He _needed_ the stone. Nothing else mattered, nothing but the stone. Once he had it, all the bad things would end. He would be the rightful King Under the Mountain. He would be as Thror had been, so long ago. Powerful. All he needed was the stone.

The stone that they were hiding from him.

They had to be hiding it from him, or else why hadn't they found it yet? They had it and they were keeping it to themselves. Thieves. Traitors. They had his Arkenstone. If they did, if they had stolen it, he would kill them, every single one of them. He was a king and they were nothing. The stone was his and they deserved nothing. He would kill every single one of these worms if he had too, if that was the only way to get his Arkenstone back.

He would start with Nori (Thief! Thief! If anyone had it, it was him!) and then his brothers Dori (so proper and polite, had to be hiding something) and Ori (had tried to take Kili away from his duties, proof that he was a traitor, an enemy).

Gloin then (must have stolen it, present for his son) and Oin (never trusted him, never trusted anyone).

Balin (knew the place like his pocket, must have known where the Arkenstone fell) Dwalin (pretended to be his friend all these years, always there, no one could really be that faithful. Traitor!).

Bombur would come after (so fat, needed money for his food, so fat and useless) and Bifur (something in his eyes, something not to be trusted, he had a secret that one, they all did), then there would be Bofur (he'd fucked him only to get to the stone, never get close, never get close, it's a mistake, they will steal from you) and Bilbo (why else would he have come, why else would he have pretended to tolerate Thorin's attention, maybe he should die first).

Finally, there would be Fili (wants the throne, wants the stone, he would kill him in his sleep to become king) and Kili (not him, not him, he would die if Kili had taken it, he would die if he had to kill him, he would...)

“Is everything okay uncle?” Kili inquired, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You've been standing here for a while, and...”

Thorin jumped at the contact and pushed the lad away. Kili slipped on some coins and fell, but Thorin did not notice it, did not care about it.

“Don't touch me!” the king roared. “Why are you here? Why aren't you with the other, looking for the Arkenstone? Why are you here?”

The lad threw him a hurt look. “I'm sorry! I just... dinner's ready, and we haven't seen you all day, and I was worried... I'm sorry, uncle. I... I'll leave you in peace...”

Thorin felt his heart clench.

He recalled a day, decades ago, when he was still young, as Kili was and happy, as the boy hadn't been in weeks. He too had been worried, about Thror, who had become obsessed with that blasted Arkenstone. Doing nothing but staring at it for hours, as if nothing else mattered, as if their kingdom were but a decoration for that damn stone. Thorin didn't remember what he'd said or done, but it had angered his grandfather who had thrown him away, so violently that he'd hurt his back in his fall. He remembered the tears at the corner of his eyes, and the way Thror hadn't even looked at him, how his attention had been too caught up in the Arkenstone to notice his grandson was lying at his feet and could barely get up.

And he'd just done the same to Kili. His blood and flesh.

He had hurt Kili.

 _He_ had hurt _Kili_.

“I'm sorry,” Thorin whispered, dropping next to the lad and pulling him in his arms. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I'm _sorry_.”

“I'm... I'm okay, uncle,” Kili assured him, awkwardly patting his uncle's back. “Well, my ass has know better days, but I'm okay. Don't... don't put yourself in such a state. I swear we'll find your Arkenstone, and soon, so... try to relax, will you?”

Fuck the stone, Thorin thought angrily, holding the boy tighter. It was a dead rock. It didn't _matter_. _This_ mattered. His _son_ mattered. A son that would never bear that name, a son that could never know who he was... but his son all the same.

 

The following morning, a delegation of men and elves came to the mountain, claiming that they had the Arkenstone, and wanted to exchange it for a fourteenth of Erebor's gold. Thorin readily agreed.

It was such a small price to pay to ensure peace for his kingdom.


	11. true love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kili almost wished he hadn't survived the battle  
> It was all he deserved, for being in love with a dwarf who was his own brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for suicidal thoughts,Thorin earning the "father of the year" award, and brief mention of character death

There had been a battle in spite of all their efforts, in spite of Thorin's sudden return of good will, but it hadn't been the one they had feared. As Thorin had come to the men and elves' camp to sign the paper promising them a part of the gold of Erebor, Gandalf had come in. There was an army of orcs and worse creatures coming, he had said.

It had been a terrible thing. Not as bad as it would have been if they hadn't been warned in time, but terrible all the same. Many had fallen.

Kili almost wished he had been one of them. It was a sinful thought, he knew it. Only the most twisted of dwarves could ever have wished for the end of his own life, when it was a present from Mahal himself…

But if there was anything Kili had learned in the past few weeks, it was how twisted and repulsing he was.

Why else would he have felt such love and desire for a dwarf who was his own brother?

He could have been excused for wanting Ori when he didn’t know. Ori who was so clever and kind and pretty, Ori who always had some nice words for him, Ori who admired his skill with a bow, Ori who told him his ears were cute and his nose charming…

Ori who had been so kind and sweet and _wonderful_ when they had made love for the first time, the _only_ time… and Kili knew he shouldn’t have clung to that memory, but it had been his last happy moment in the arms of his One.

Everything had gone to Mordor after that.

Because Ori wasn’t his One, he was his brother.

And yet, Kili still wanted him.

Right after the shock of the discovery, they had both agreed that their relation had to stop. At the time, it had seemed the only thing to do, and for a while, Kili had managed to accept it.

He had been horrified when he’d realized that he still loved Ori, that he still felt that same pull toward him, the pull he’d been so sure meant the young scribe was his One, the other half of his soul...

Many nights in Mirkwood, Kili lay awake, staring at the trees above him, wishing he could have Ori beside him. Just being close would have been enough, he told himself. Just touching, nothing more, just holding hands, being in each others' arms... Only, that was a lie, wasn't it? He could not have been content with just that, he knew it.

"Just go back to him and be his lover again," Fili whispered to him one morning, as they walked on the dark forest's path. "Who cares that he might be of our blood? The three of us are the only one who knows... no one will ever figure it out..."

"It's still bad!" Kili hissed. "I shouldn't even want him! I am sure he doesn't want me anymore. He's a good dwarf after all, not a... not a messed up freak like me."

"You aren't a freak," Fili immediately protested, as he always did when his brother used that word on himself. "And you might not have noticed the way he still looks at you, but I did. He still loves you as much as you love him."

Kili shrugged.

"It will pass... for both of us, it will pass."

"And if it doesn't, will you be miserable for the rest of your life?" Fili snapped. "Shall I watch you waste away for nothing? Just because the two of you have a father in common... if even that?"

Kili frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"Ask uncle about father, one day. _I_ can't say anything, because I'm not _sure_ , but... I think Thorin has things to say that would make you feel less guilty about your love for Ori."

It was a strange thing to say, certainly, and Kili rather felt like asking for explanations.... but before he could say anything, the company encountered a large, dark river. For a good while afterwards, Kili didn't have much time to think about his tragic romance.

 

One night in Laketown, there was a great party. Kili drank too much. So did Ori.

It made them forget for a while that they weren't supposed to desire each other, not anymore. When Ori dragged the prince back to the house lent to the company, they made love for the second time, and it was nothing like the first. There was something desperate in the way they clung to each other, as if it might all turn out to have been a dream if they let go of one another for just one second. They had one another several times over the night. They cried a few times. They also laughed.

When Kili woke up in the morning he was alone, and he knew that they would never again have such a night.

He didn't drink alcohol for the rest of their stay. Neither did Ori.

 

On the morning before they left toward Erebor, Thorin came to see his nephew.

"I do not think I have told you yet," he said, "but I am glad you renounced your little fling for Ori. He is not a bad boy, but I could never have let you marry a bastard. Especially not after that little reveal about Nori's parentage. We can't expect much from someone whose mother has such loose morals. You made the right choice."

Kili almost punched him right there and then. He almost shouted 'I fucked my own brother, I still bear the marks of his nails and teeth on my skin, and these are more precious to me that all the gold of Erebor'. He almost yelled that Thorin couldn't judge anyone's morals when he had a hobbit and a dwarf keeping his bed warm.

"Thank you, uncle, " he said instead. "Your approval means the world to me."

 

Every day spent in the mountain was a torture. Kili wanted Ori more than ever, and he knew now that Ori wanted him back, even after all that they had discovered.

It was a torture, but they resisted.

Kili wished he had managed to be proud of it.

 

He'd hoped to die in the battle, he really had.

But he had survived, whereas Thorin only had a couple hours left, or so he was told.

"He wants to see you," Bofur told him.

So Kili went.

Thorin looked terrible, all gray and covered in blood... Kili knew he should have pitied him. He couldn't,  not quite. Not after the way Thorin had treated them all these last few weeks.

"Kili?"

"Yes, uncle?"

"Come here, boy. I do not have much time left, I feel it... and your brother insisted so much... he said you needed to know..."

Kili sat by his uncle mattress. "What do I need to know, uncle?"

"I am surprised you never noticed," Thorin sighed. "You look nothing like Gili, and so much like me... but you never knew Gili, of course. That must be why."

"Uncle?"

"I am not your uncle, child. I fathered you... to an elf, of all creatures. A mistake,  a terrible mistake... but you turned out better than I might have expected. There isn't much of your mother in you thankfully... Dis did a good job with you... Well? What do you... say to that?"

Tears were running on Kili's cheeks, and he didn't try to stop them. He felt stupid, as stupid as his uncle... no, his father, had sometimes accused him of being. They had all lied to him, every single one of them. Even Fili had known... and he had tried to warn him, Kili realised.

Kili felt stupid.

But more than anything, he felt furious.

"Why didn't you tell me before?" he snarled. "If really I am better than you thought I'd be... why didn't you tell me?"

"There was no need for it. I still see no need for it... why taunt you with a knowledge that could only hurt you? You could never had sat on the throne of Erebor with such a blood. But Fili insisted... he insisted so much... he said he would tell you anyway... that you had to know..."

Kili jumped to his feet, glaring at his uncle.

"Of course I had to know!" He shouted, and he would have struck Thorin if the king hadn't been dying. "I have been miserable for, for weeks now, because... because Ori is Gili's son, and if I had known... I love him, uncle, I love him _so much_ , and even thinking he was my brother... I loved him so much that I went into battle hoping I would die, since death would have been better than a life without him, and... I hate you, I hate you so much!"

Thorin's eyes widened, as if he hadn't expected that reaction.

"I tell you... I tell you I am your father... and that _boy_ is what you think about?"

"He is all I ever think about," Kili retorted. "And now, if you don't mind... I will go back to him, and I will be _happy_ , and even if you survive there is nothing you can do about it. I am his and he is mine, and you... you are _nothing_."

And before Thorin could protest, before he could lie again or insult him again, Kili ran out of the tent. He had to find Ori. Nothing in the world mattered but Ori. Ori who was his One, Ori who wasn’t his brother, had never been, and they had lost so much time, so much precious time, but that was over now.

Nothing would ever again come between them.

Kili found his lover in a tent, with his brothers. Ori seemed fine, barely a few scratches here and there... he was fine, and they weren't brothers, so Kili ran to him, grabbed him, and kissed him as if his life depended on it. It did, in a way.

Ori's lips were everything that he remembered, so soft against his, with his moustache tickling a bit. For a moment, the scribe melted against him, as he always did... until he remembered that they weren't meant to do this anymore and he pushed Kili away, looking terrified. The prince just smiled at him.

"It's okay, love. We _can_. I'm not your brother, we can... Thorin just talked to me, he said... he said I was his son, not Gili... we aren't brothers, love."

He could feel Dori and Nori's eyes on them, but he didn't care. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered but Ori, Ori who wasn't his brother, Ori who frowned, as if he couldn’t quite believe it.

"Are you sure?"

"Sure as I can be, love. It’s all fine. Everything is fine."

Ori smiled, laughed, cried, and kissed Kili.

Nori and Dori didn't protest when the two of them ran out of the tent together, smiling in spite of their confusion (there would be explanations later, Kili knew... but not now, all that matter now was Ori, and the fact that they weren't brother). The boys ran, and found themselves a quiet place to hide in the ruin of Dale, near which the camp was. For a short second, Kili felt guilty for being so happy, when people had died, when people where still dying... but then, Ori kissed him, and the prince forgot that the rest of the world even existed.

The third time they made love was slow and careful. They were both tired and aching from the battle... and there just wasn't any need to rush things. They had the rest of their lives together. People might make it difficult for them, but if they had survived that battle, if they had managed to stay in love after all that had happened, then Kili wasn't worried. No matter what the universe threw at them now, they would face it together, and nothing else mattered. So they made love, and kissed, and laughed, and talked about what their lives would be like, now that Erebor was theirs. Kili felt happier than he had been since that terrible day at Beorn's, and he almost wanted to thank Thorin for letting him have Ori again, no matter how unwillingly.

Kili never got to thank the dwarf who wasn't his uncle.

By the time Ori and him got hungry enough to be forced to return to the camp, Thorin had died already.

He had never been much of an uncle, and he'd done even worse as a father, but he had always been there, and so Kili broke into tears when he learned the news. Ori held him in arms though, and the prince was grateful that his lover didn't try to feed him meaningless words of comfort. Ori was just there, and that was all Kili needed at the moment.

It was all he would ever need for the rest of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was all super short chapters, and then Ori/Kili and I got all lyrical.  
> I ain't even sorry.


	12. welcome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erebor awaits the return of its people

Kili was woken up by warm lips against his neck, his cheek, his temple, his ears, and teeth nibbling at the pointy tips of said ears. It brought a grin on a his face, and without opening his eyes he turned toward Ori, blindly seeking his mouth for their first kiss of the day. That kiss started slow and tender, but after a few minutes it turned passionate, Ori licking and biting playfully at Kili’s lips while one of his hands travelled down the prince’s body.

“We can’t,” the prince sighed with a happy grin. “Not this morning, we really can’t… we’ve got to get ready to welcome everyone…”

“Hm… yes, we do,” Ori agreed, sucking lightly on the tip of Kili’s ear just as his hand arrived between the prince’s legs. “It’d be terrible if we were late. Do you want me to stop?”

“I’ll divorce you if you stop.”

The scribe laughed, and moved to kiss his husband. “Can’t take that risk. We’ll just have to be quick, I suppose.”

 

They weren’t.

 

They had to run to the main hall, both of them still buttoning their tunic as they came to join the rest of the company, giggling like naughty children, but no one scolded them for it. That sort of behaviour could only be expected from newlyweds, after all.

There had been some slight protestations from the Iron Hill dwarves, at the idea of a prince marrying without permission from his mother. But the Company had glared at people until they all shut up, and young king Fili had pointed out that since Kili was his brother, and _he_ was king, he had a right to allow the wedding.

What he didn’t say was that Kili had made it very clear that he didn’t want Dis present at his wedding, and that Ori and him had made plan to elope and get married in Laketown if they were told to wait. Kili was still too hurt by the lies of his family to want the woman he'd called mother for so long to stand by him for his wedding. Fili, who knew that his brother was also more than a little angry at him for never having shared his doubts concerning his link to Thorin, had decided that he would deal with Dis’s anger when the time came. It was easier that way… and it made everyone so happy to have something good to celebrate, in the aftermath of the battle.

Of course, being lenient toward the two lovers didn’t mean no one teased them.

“Careful, Kili, I think you’re limping!” Fili joked, and he was pleased to see his brother blush furiously. “Ori, stop trying to break my brother!”

“I would stop, but he’s the one asking for it,” the scribe retorted cheerfully, making the king wince and laugh.

They had gotten closer, Fili and Ori. They didn’t treat each other as brothers, not really… but they exchanged stories about their father, talking about that dwarf they hadn’t ever really known, but whom they missed so much.

“Nori, your little brother is a crude fellow,” Fili told his spymaster.

Nori, who was discussing some security measures with Dwalin, turned toward his king and just laughed.

“Not my fault. Dori’s the one who raised him, and Dwalin and Balin had the most influence over him… if you’ve got a problem, talk with them. Beside, I think he’s right, and your brother asked for it. Look at him, he looks well fucked and happy.”

Fili stuck out his tongue at him, ignoring Balin and Gloin’s comments about how that wasn’t very fitting behaviour for a king.

As if they weren’t laughing too.

The only ones who didn’t entirely share their hilarity that morning were Bofur and Bilbo, though they did smile, which Fili at least took as a sign of progress. They had both been with Thorin when the king had died, forgiving him all that he’d done to them in the weeks before the battle… but that hadn’t been enough to save him. At least, he had died free from the gold sickness, and he’d had the time to tell everything he had to say… and that was something that seemed to be of comfort to his lovers.

They were still going to live in the Shire, they’d announced. They had stayed for the winter, to help as much as they could, but now that the exiles were beginning to return, it was time for them to make their way back to Bag Eng. Bifur had offered to come with them, at least part of the way, and then he’d go to Ered Luin, to help organize the return of the rest of the exiles. Bofur had asked him to, and Bifur had said yes, of course.

“Well, here they come,” Nori grunted. “Everyone in place.”

“Shouldn’t I be the one to give orders around here?” Fili asked.

Nori shrugged, as if he didn’t see the point. Fili wondered if he should have protested against being dismissed so carelessly, but he smirked instead, and took his place. The others did the same. On the king's left were Kili and Ori, holding hands and looking disgustingly sweet. Dori was next to them, and Nori and Dwalin were right behind, almost looking as if they weren't ready to kill anyone who might threaten Fili. Bilbo and Bofur were on the other side of him, with Bifur and Oin. Bombur and Gloin were right next to the door, anxiously waiting for their spouses and children, whom they had not seen in far too long.

At a gesture from Fili, the doors opened, and surrounded by dwarves who were family or friends or both at once, the young king welcomed his subjects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading


End file.
